


Room with a View

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25627972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: Toris gives his girlfriend a tour of his house.
Relationships: Lithuania (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Room with a View

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr; tea-pettiest

The white trim and light wash of blue at the walls was fitting for him; calm, even. With the gray-blue upholstery and shining wood of his furniture, the entire house seemed to carry a tranquil happiness; the sort that came with watching the rain at the windowsill on a lazy Sunday afternoon, or watching the clouds pass and having no more of an important thing to do. 

She felt out of place here, in this settled peace, with her body taut like a livewire, and her skin crackling with an energy she couldn’t quite dispel or displace.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

She looked up from the table as Toris sat down beside her and despite her restlessness, she couldn’t help the easy smile that spread at her lips.

They’d only just started dating seriously, and already he was calling her ‘dear’ like they’d witnessed the many years together. It made a softer, gentler heat swell in her chest. Though different from how her palms itched and sweated around her cup of coffee, it would all melt into the same place, settling behind her pelvic bone like a foot at the gas pedal.

His eyes were green, heartbreakingly so.

“I am,” she reached over to place a hand on his reassuringly. “I’m just looking around.”

A light pink gathered at his cheeks.

“Oh?”

His kitchen was modest; he liked the feel of the country when he cooked, which was another thing; he liked to cook for himself, never mind the arsenal of servants many of his colleagues kept. 

“It’s so… _you_ ,” her eyes glittered softly in the natural, white light. “It’s lovely.”

She traced the ring of her teacup with her pinkie finger, the delicate flowered edge, trimmed in gold above a motif of wildflowers against the ceramic.

The hue at his face intensified and the hand that was not caught under hers reached up to rub at his jaw. He paid her compliments like an ostentatious man tipped the help in esteemed company. He accepted compliments with the bashful shame of a puppy caught weeing on the carpet.

She couldn’t help but laugh, charmed by his delicate modesty. 

For a man who considered himself rather humble, he was an absolute treasure. The part of her that ran tangential to this chaste delight, wanted to make his face burn more adamantly. 

They’d gone on several dates before he’d posited the idea of them becoming more serious, their hands linked as they strolled through town. 

His exact words had been ‘going steady’ like it was the fifties. Of course, she’d happily agreed and loved him all the more for his manners, a hybrid of timeless boyishness and the perfect gentleman; a man still growing into his chivalry, but who already had a heart of gold.

She hadn’t foreseen her impatience, not when every step in their relationship felt as seamless as their walk that day. 

And yet, they had started the night he’d asked her. That is, the dreams had.

They had started innocently enough; a clumsier rendition of their dates so far, cobbled together by her memory and her want. 

Such want, as it turned out, had a way of hijacking the joint effort though. Soon enough, the sleepy afternoons had melted into sleepless nights, the warmth from the sun, turning into a fever that buzzed between her legs.

She would wake up, sweaty and pounding with her arousal, a fly caught in a web of sheets. Her fingers were her shameful consolation prize.

Normally, these feelings could be tucked away for the day until she returned to bed, but now, being alone with the object of her desires in his home, she couldn’t deny that the need was welling up in her with carnal fervor. 

She’d also be lying if she said she hadn’t suspected this might happen. The mere thought of being alone with him had set her off that morning as she dressed, and so she _did_ in fact, dress for the occasion. 

Feeling her tenuous hold on normalcy slip, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs. Already, a slick wetness had gathered between her thighs. She tugged the hem of her skirt, a symptom of fretting about leaving a wet mark on his chair.

She felt dirty like she was keeping a secret. 

They had just started this relationship, and already she was hiding parts of herself from him, sweeping them under the rug where hopefully he wouldn’t notice the bumps. Maybe the right thing to do was to just _tell_ him how much she wanted him. It was also the painful thing to do, of course, but wasn’t the right thing often uncomfortable?

“Toris,” she said, and immediately she had his attention. There was a nervous flutter in her chest. “I…want you.”

The words dropped from her lips like an atom bomb, and her heart dropped to her feet. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised, not reacting yet, but processing. 

“Want me to what?”

At this, a prickling sweat sprang at her palms. She shifted in her seat, hyperaware of the glide of slick between her legs and the way her shot nerves seemed to feed into the throb of her sex.

“I just…want _you_.”

There was more silence, and she thought surely, she was going to go mad.

Then he gave a light laugh. Everything inside of her felt jumbled up; she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel, or if his reaction boded well for her yet.

He smiled warmly and adjusted their hands, tucked against each other so he could thread his fingers through hers. He raised their hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, regarding her warmly through a thick fringe of lashes.

“You’re so sweet; you already have me, _mylimoji_.”

Her chest glowed, but so did the blistering heat inside of her. 

She shifted in her seat, her restlessness only further spurred by the failed attempt. She felt herself clench emptily and she almost hiked her skirt up from under the table and plunged her fingers into her wet, wanting entrance, then and there. Meanwhile, she felt him give her hand a squeeze.

Oh, to have those strong fingers somewhere _else_.

“Now, how about I give you the tour?”

His voice jolted her from the gutter, but only barely. Toris reached up to rub abashedly at the back of his neck. 

“If you’re going to come around often…then, I’d like for you to feel comfortable here.”

The impatient, frustrated part of her melted a bit at this, though she couldn’t deny the small sliver of hope sitting among her scrambled self-control either; comfortable enough to spend the night?

Toris had led her from the kitchen and down the vast main hallway of his home. Everything was done in white trim and a fair, blue wash. Plenty of windows allowed for lots of natural light. The entire place felt clarifying and quiet. He showed her the sitting room.

What she saw was herself riding him on the couch, his fingers smoothing her hair from her back as she bounced on his cock. In this vision, his eyes watched the movement of her ass, mesmerized by the motion of her body as it inspired him to jerk his own hips up, spearing his cock deeper into her. 

Her arousal pounded its approval at this daydream and then he showed her the bedroom.

She pictured them on the bed, her on her back with a great view of his butt as he hovered over her, straddling her in reverse as he fought to grind down against her. 

As she watched him walk ahead of her, she studied his ass in his trousers; she wished she could’ve reached forward to give it a quick punch. 

She’d bet he had a really cute butt; then he showed her the powder room.

She imagined the door locking behind them as they entertained guests for the evening and him pinning her up against the door. The hem of her dress would be bunched at her waist, the crotch of her panties hooked out of the way (or maybe she’d forgo panties entirely like she had today), his cock would be out as he ground against her, his length sliding up, tracing at the seam of her cunt.

At the thought of such sweet, slippery friction, she felt herself clench emptily. A wet bead of slick slipped down along her inner thigh.

She imagined the feeling of his lips and tongue licking it u-

He said her name, had said it several times.

“Huh?” Her face warmed as she startled in her skin. 

Toris chuckled as he turned to her, a boyish grin at his face. 

“You’re so cute.”

How strange it was to burn at her face, in her chest, and below the belt for this man. 

Every part of her felt aflame.

“Ah, well, I don’t-“

“Now, this way,” he grabbed her hand and tugged her further down the hallway. She liked the firmness of his grasp and how it felt for him to take the lead.

When they arrived at a set of white double doors – the first she’d seen in his home so far – he slowed and turned to her, his eyes alight.

“This next room, I’m really excited to show you. It’s my favorite place in the whole house, and I hope you can grow to love it as dearly as I do.” 

His cheeks burned a warm pink as he turned and pushed the doors open.

They stepped into what felt like the largest room she’d ever seen in a home ever. It was no doubt what qualified his otherwise modest home as a mansion. What had once probably been several rooms, had been consolidated as one large one, lined floor to ceiling on three sides with bookshelves crammed with spines of varying widths and colors. 

She stepped further in, her eyebrows raised, truly taken aback. 

Mobile ladders set on a track could be tugged around the perimeter of the room, allowing people access to the books on the topmost shelves – which sat at about fifteen feet.

There was a set of polished antique furniture in the middle of the grand room; a small reading area that could serve eight, but usually only served the one who lived here. 

The side of the room without bookshelves was lined with tall windows, allowing natural light to stream in, over the cushioned window seats at each one. The way the light spilled over reminded her of silver water rushing over the stones in a river.

It was like something out of a movie; she was instantly enchanted, her prior restlessness momentarily forgotten.

Toris was sidling up to her, his arms behind his back. It looked like he was trying to let her take it all in for herself, though his expression told her it was killing him not to push further for her approval.

“I want this to be a safe place for you too – somewhere you can go to relax, even if I’m not here.”

A pang went through her chest at this.

“I know we just started officially dating and all,” he continued. 

“But I really, really like how I feel with you – even when we’re just in the same room. So I thought, maybe, I could find a room that makes you feel just as good.”

Suddenly, it hit her. What _was_ the hurry? 

I mean, besides her current pressing need. But realistically, what was that to what they could potentially build together? Already he was trying to find her a safe place which left no doubt in her mind that he was worth waiting for, and certainly, her fingers could hold her over until then.

She reached over to him, catching the sleeve of his jacket.

“Any room with you in it makes me feel good,” she gave a small smile.

She ventured further into the library, retaining her hold on his jacket and towing him along as she perused the shelves. It was comfortable; a sort of intimacy in its own right. She could feel his eyes on her every time she stepped in to study a title more closely. 

With every title she recognized, she wondered at what he might’ve thought as he read it; did he like _The Great Gatsby_? Had he condemned Javert in _Les Misérables_? 

She took all these inquiries and tucked them into the back of her head for a rainy day. Outside, the sky was white as a sheet.

Several cases down, there was a title that caught her eye. 

Stepping up to it, she looked over her shoulder at Toris.

“May I…?”

“Of course.”

She reached for a black paperback book with _The Story of O_ inscribed on its back. She couldn’t quite reach it.

She rolled up onto her tiptoes and stretched her arm out. She was acutely aware of how short her skirt was, and how she wasn’t wearing underwear. She tried to ignore this as she reached for the book, only to find that her fingers still came a few inches short of actually touching it.

One of the roll-ladders was just a few feet away; she’d only need to climb the first couple of steps to reach the book. 

“Careful,” Toris chided as she pulled it over, and stepped up three rungs, reaching for the book once again.

Toris was silent below her as she gently pulled the book from its place. When she turned it over, there was a naked woman curled in the arms of a man with his shirt strewn about him. 

‘Oh’, indeed.

She turned back to Toris, still up on the ladder, and held the book up for him to see. With one raised eyebrow, she’d intended to tease him about the rather promiscuous title – French erotic literature? She’d have never pegged him as the type. 

Toris wasn’t looking at her though, he was staring hard at the ground, his face a vicious red. It was then that she realized that his eyes came to about the hem of her skirt when she was this high on the ladder. If she leaned over even the slightest (like she had when reaching for the book), her buttocks would’ve peeped out from under the garment, as would the soft, wet mound of her cunt.

There was a small flutter of embarrassment that hit her, but then she clamped her thighs shut, instinctively, and was immediately reminded of how wet she was, as well as the pleasantness of the friction she struck in herself from the small movement.

All at once, her pounding arousal returned, dispelling her nerves.

Toris couldn’t possibly ignore this, could he? She didn’t dare entertain the thought.

She descended the ladder, missing the bottom rung, and sort of stumbling back into his arms. Toris leaned in and caught her like it was second nature to him, and maybe given the current circumstances, it was.

She fell into the firm steadiness of him, her back hitting his chest - it was the hardness between his legs that caught her attention though.

The swell of her ass caught against him, so quick that anyone less aroused might have assumed they’d caught the ridge of his hipbone, or maybe something in his pocket, but she _knew_.

She turned and looked down to the bulge in his trousers, which was a bit more discernible now that she had felt what she’d felt, and knew to look.

Then she looked up at his face and their eyes met.

Toris’ face was red. Despite having had a lot to say that day, words seemed to evade him now. He looked shellshocked – both by what he saw and what she knew. He was waiting to see what she would do next; she certainly knew what she _wanted_ to do.

She ached to feel his hardness again, perhaps in more intimate reaches.

Without thinking, she grabbed on to the lapels of his jacket and dragged him in, crushing her mouth to his in a heated kiss. His body was stiff against her, his hands hesitating before he wrapped his arms around her, and resigned himself to their desires.

She could feel his fluttered grip as it smoothed up into her hair, and caught at the small of her back; his hands were trembling as he touched her.

He touched her deafly, a little clumsily at first, his hands smoothing over her back and along her sides like he was still afraid of being caught. 

His lips responded to hers on delay, bogged down by his surprise as she broke through the confines of their usual fragile, chaste kisses.

Her hold on him slackened as her hands moved to the buttons on her blouse.

“Wait,” he breathed, tearing his mouth away from hers. His chest was heaving, his eyes glazed as they dropped to where her hands were. “Can we really…?”

She didn’t answer; only wrenched the front of her blouse open, popping the buttons.

There were the taps of them skittering to the floor and rolling off to some forgotten corner of the room. The sound barely registered though, because then he was looking down at her pert breasts as they poked out from the parted lips of her shirt.

The first thought that streaked through his mind was, _where was her bra?_ The second was, _how did he not notice?_

She quickly tired of his mute ogling and reached for his hand.

“ _Please_ Toris,” she begged, moving his hand to her breast and squeezing her hand around it.

She was so _soft_ and _warm_. Toris’ mind shorted out. It was like someone had dropped one of those heavy, white canvases over his thoughts, like when people covered their furniture to paint. 

Toris had no interest in peaking beneath the covers; he was only focused on the woman in the palms of his hands right now.

Their mouths met again in another frenzied meshing of lips and tongue. 

She leaned heavily into his chest, pressing herself as close as physically possible. 

He staggered back, unable to focus both on anchoring himself to this room and the sensation of her breasts in his hands. He undid another button to allow him more room to knead at her. When he rolled her nipples under his thumbs, she arched into him, her hands roughly shucking his jacket from his shoulders. He let it drop uselessly, breaking his grasp on her only so he could let it fall to the ground.

She got to work on his shirt buttons next, not wanting to necessarily be as rough or careless with his garment than she was with her own. His touches were making her delirious though, lost to the sensation of endless flux from her sex. His body set hers in motion, like a boat, and she was making her own little ocean at the apex of her thighs.

Her fingers stumbled and tripped over his buttons in her haste. 

At the last one, she had particular trouble; the promise of his bare torso and the inebriation of his touch going straight to her head, gumming up the cogs and keeping them from connecting her need to have his clothes off, and the dexterity required to achieve this.

One hand left her breasts to help her with the last button, his fingers gently nudging against hers as they guided it through the hole.

Then she was tugging his shirt off and exiling that to the floor too. 

Toris bumped into the center table from behind; the pursuit of their pleasure taking them from the bookshelves at the perimeter of the room, to the reading area in the middle. Now that there was nowhere else for him to be driven; she could acquire the closeness she desired. 

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. This time, Toris was prepared.

His mouth caught hers, taking command of the movements, keeping her at his mercy with the sly tuck of his tongue against her lips and into her mouth. 

His hands went for a light grip at her hips, smoothing down in a fondling touch. When he reached the hem of her skirt, his hands palming the soft weight of her ass and he hesitated.

He’d forgotten - she wasn’t wearing panties.

He cupped her ass, using the substantial grip to hoist her against him. 

She moaned at the friction of her chest against his, and the feel of his erection catching between them. The hardened peaks of her breasts brushed against his warm skin and the brown, wiry hair that covered it. 

She shoved her hands in between them, reaching for the waistband of his trousers.

He kissed her harder, knowing that everything from here on out would be them skimming the slippery slope down to their releases.

He heard his belt buckle as she yanked the leather from the loops, and undid it. The button and zip of his trousers were handled with adept fury; she was too horny to make a mistake and cause further delays now.

His pants and she both dropped at the same time; the first to his ankles, and the second, to her knees. 

Hooking her fingers around the elastic of his underwear, she dragged it down, his freed erection springing out from its restraint. Her face was so close to his cock that it recoiled off her face as she released it.

Toris was watching her again, with the slack-jawed, heady look.

He wasn’t used to seeing the pretty girl he took out for lunch dates and walks in the park looking so _lewd_. He was so hard it was nearly painful; he liked the look of her kneeling before his cock more than he liked to admit.

He could feel her breath curl around his length, her face, a lovely backdrop to his throbbing erection. Her breasts were hanging from her shirt, the fabric pushed around them for ease of access.

Immediately, the urge to bury himself in her struck him, and he caught the flickering image of her cunt peeking out at him from the fringe of her skirt. God, at the time he’d hated himself for looking, now he hated himself for not doing more. 

Two steps forward and he could’ve had his face planted firmly in the wet seam of her sex, her musky scent filling his mouth and nose.

Instead, here she was, hovering just before his cock. 

Guilt crept up inside of him, slinking around his insides with the discretion of a shadow – he hadn’t noticed it until he was standing directly in its shade.

He had told himself she would be different; instead of the other few passion-filled flings he'd had that fizzled out as soon as the sun rose, he’d vowed to be a gentleman with her. Someone who would love and protect her, and here he was, ready to fuck her before he’d had the chance to properly do either of those things.

Suddenly, her mouth was on his cock, and he couldn’t think of anything at all.

Her lips were tight around his girth as she took as much of him as she could. 

Toris made a choked sound that was supposed to be her name.

She bobbed at the end of his length, retreating to his tip before taking him in again. Her tongue traced pointedly at the underside of his cock and she hollowed her cheeks, giving a pulsating suck to feed his throbbing arousal.

The next time she focused on his tip, it was to grind the flat of her tongue against his head and give it a focused suck. His hips jerked against her, and she gagged, momentarily stunned by the sudden force he’d fucked her mouth with. His balls meshed against her face, and at the feeling of this, he couldn’t help but grind against her, despite how his guilt flared, gnawing at his nerves like moths wearing through sheets.

“ _Ah_ , I’m sorry-“

Toris tried to withdraw from her but she wouldn’t have it. 

Despite the sting of tears in her eyes, she forced her throat muscles to relax around him, and her hands reached up to his hips, preventing him from pulling out completely. 

She let him withdraw to the tip before the pumped him back into her mouth, now prepared to take his length in its entirety. The tip of him brushed deeper at her throat, the soft, wetness of this part of her almost making him collapse.

Before he could, her mouth left him and she wrapped her hand around his length. Slick from her saliva and the slow drip of precum beading at his tip, she gave him a few steady pumps. Then, she lifted his cock and sucked at the underside.

Toris gasped.

“My _God_ -“

She trailed open-mouthed kisses along him until she reached his base. Toris hadn’t known where she was going with this, but he certainly hadn’t expected her to press an open-mouthed kiss at his balls.

When she took one in his mouth and started sucking gently, he thought he might stroke out.

Again, he wanted to call her name, and again, the words felt like they turned to sand in his mouth. He really couldn’t do any part of her justice.

Toris’ head dropped back; he was putty in her hands.

Her free hand reached under him, just behind his balls, and trailed a light finger back further, across the tender skin spanning from his balls to his asshole.

When her finger traced lightly at the puckered entrance, he stiffened, and immediately, she retreated, returning to his cock and balls; she could lead a horse to water, but she couldn’t make it drink.

She replaced the hand on his cock with her mouth once more, humming a slight apology as she did so. She reached for his balls with the hand that had trespassed and fondled him gently. He relaxed once more over her as she sucked at him. 

She took him well, reveling in the salt of him and working him enthusiastically towards his release. When he twitched in her mouth, his hands caught her shoulders and gently shifted her off his length.

She was surprised, a little string of spit hanging at her lip. 

She blinked at him, shy, for the first time that day.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Toris’ hands smoothed down her arms and pulled her to her feet.

“Not at all,” he pressed a kiss to her nose and turned them so that now she was against the table. “But I wasn’t ready to finish yet.”

The feverish desire inside of him flared in response, a protest that seared his skin and kept a simmering impatience broiling in the pit of his stomach. There were greener pastures though, as people said. Or rather, tighter, wetter caverns, in their case.

He gently pushed her down, lifting her by the waist and easing her up onto the table.

She shifted further onto the table and lay back as Toris slotted in between her legs. She felt the wood creak beneath him as he added his weight on top of her. When his palms slid under her thighs, she hitched them at his hips.

One of Toris’ hands left her thighs as he palmed his erection and guided it to her entrance. He rubbed the engorged tip of his cock against her, tracing it along her slit and she arched towards him, moaning wantonly.

Already, her silken wetness had his legs shaking, and he wasn’t even _inside_ her yet.

“You’re this wet already?”

She gave a light, breathy laugh at this.

“I’ve been wet for you the entire time I’ve been here.”

His chest squeezed when she said ‘for you’.

He ground his tip against her, easing it in.

“Before?”

“Mm,” she squirmed beneath him, looking like she was stifling another moan as her eyelashes fluttered shut. “I dreamt about you last night.”

He pushed in a few more inches, moving slowly. He felt her heat clamp around him, though she took him easily enough.

“What about?”

She smiled, her cheeks flushed.

“I can’t remember the dream so much, but I know I woke up wet and with my fingers between my legs.”

It was an image that he’d never seen before and yet he couldn’t help but visualize it with striking clarity and detail.

Her, naked, sweaty, and twisted in her sheets, knuckle deep in her own cunt. 

Was any of this wetness leftover from that? Had she been steeping in her own arousal all day?

He hilted himself inside of her and almost saw God. His hips braced against hers as he bowed into her, sapped of any control. His nose skimmed her sternum; he mouthed at the underside of a breast and she sighed.

When he started thrusting into her, he reveled in the shift of her body against his, the jostle of her breasts against his face, and the spice of her sweaty scent as it wafted to him. The drag of him against her inner walls was as glorious to him as it was to her; sweet friction spun sparks to flame that lapped a fever inside their skin. 

Already he felt heat sear up his spine from the knot of tension in the pit of his gut. He lifted his face to watch her, picking up the pace.

She was beautiful; her skin rosy with the heat they’d struck between them, her face blissful, and her body deliciously spread under him. She looked contented, her hands resting on either side of her head, fingers loosely curled. 

He delighted in her gentility, but a secret part of him ached to see her body pulled taut with pleasure.

He gently hooked her knees over his shoulders, pounding harder into her. His cock reached deeper inside of her, and a mewl dropped from her lips.

“Ah, _Toris_ ,” her voice buzzed warm and live in her throat and chest as if it had never really died in her but only lay dormant until he gave it a reason to reach him again. 

He tried to give it as many as possible.

He thrust harder, his hips slapping against hers. The harder he railed against her, the more she writhed under him, her voice growing louder and louder until they were near screams. 

He was lucky he lived alone in the big house; nowhere would’ve been safe from the sound of their lovemaking.

Her loudness endeared him, every peal of her voice urging him to take her harder, and fuck her more. Toris was chasing his release secondarily; first and foremost, he wanted to hear her voice.

He slammed into her and watched the impact reverberate through her frame. Despite the carnality of what they were doing, she looked delicate, he thought. 

His face fell into the crook of her neck.

“If I’m being too rough, you tell me. Yeah?”

When she didn’t answer, he pulled back to study her. Her face was redder now; the flush of exertion layered on top of her impassioned blush. Her lips parted and her eyes rolled back, eyelashes fluttering emphatically to the rhythm of her racing pulse.

The words were mush in her brain. She nodded into his chest and placed a clumsy kiss above where his heart was.

Toris’ thrusts grew faster, and then started to devolve from their careful rhythm; he was moving at a harried pace now. She squeezed around him and when he twitched inside of her, for a few moments she was dazed into mistaking it for the throb of her own heart.

She clenched unwittingly around him again and at the intensity of the friction that came as he speared through her walls, he grunted.

A rush of pleasure swelled in her; she rather liked that sound.

Through the delirious fever of desire, one of her hands managed to snake down, between their fervent bodies. Her middle finger followed the familiar path to her clit. 

When she pressed the pad of her finger to it, her body seized up, the pull of pleasure too strong on her spent limbs. She clenched around him, harder than before and he gasped.

Her wrist moved flittedly, occasionally knocking against his hips, jolting small motions that evoked large ripples in her body. The squeeze of her around him lost its rhythm to the movements of her hand, and then she was just clenching around him like her body was ready to pull his orgasm from him and keep it as her own.

She came first, the sequence of her contracting sex melding into one long, tight hold on him. Toris worked through this too, the added friction bringing him dangerously close to his own orgasm.

“ _Oh_!”

Her blood ran hot and cold, the tension pulling taut and snapping like a thread. The pleasure that had coiled at her groin swirled through every part of her, expanding past the physical body and clouding her mind, diffusing like loose tea leaves.

There was never such heart-pounding tranquility; never a more graceful defeat.

All this was happening inside of her, meanwhile, Toris was still on the outside, thrusting at a broken pace, his body laboring after his release, his cock aching and throbbing, twitching and desperate to spill.

“Can I…inside of you?”

He felt ashamed even asking. Surely, it was too soon. Certainly, he had no right to inhabit this space; would one willingly invite a stranger into their house?

She felt light enough to dissolve, even in his arms.

She was delighted; not by the question itself as much as she was by the sound of his voice and how close it was to her.

She leaned forward, blindly, shakily, to press a sweaty kiss to his cheek.

“ _Please_ , could you come inside me?”

Her voice was bizarrely polite given her sloppy appearance. 

Nothing could have pleased Toris more.

He spilled in her almost immediately, having been long ready to lose himself to the charms of her body. His chest heaved as he remembered to breathe through his climax, which hit him like a thunderbolt to the chest. His skin was damp, the space between their bodies, muggy.

She lay under him still, squeezing gently around his softening cock, and reveling in the light oversensitivities that glimmered in her body like fish scales.

“You know,” he said when he was able to once more. “I was planning on taking my time.”

He was referring to getting her into his bed.

“Rose petals scattered in the room after a romantic, candle-lit dinner,” he continued. “Something that…would make you feel good beforehand.”

She felt incredibly good right now, but she knew what he meant – he'd wanted something that would make her feel like their coupling wasn’t just an act of impatience cooked up by their festering hormones.

He stroked gently at her cheek, and though she’d begun to cool down, the touch ignited another fervent red at her face.

She caught his hand in her own and weaved her fingers through his. 

“I’m in a wonderful place with a wonderful person – how could I feel any better?”

They watched each other quietly, non-expectant, non-judgemental, just observing. The windowpanes in the room were sprinkled with droplets. The room was so big, that they could barely hear the tap of the rain.

Despite the chilly, unfeeling light of the outside, she felt warm and secure in Toris’ arms, even as he slipped out of her, and helped her sit up.

She curled inwards into his chest, catching the muddled scents of aftershave and sex. Her breath swathed at his skin and he wrapped his arms around her, fingers finding the vertebrae at her back and ticking down the notches of her spine like he was keeping count.

The rose petals were at his cheeks, and in a few hours, it would be the perfect time for that candle-lit dinner he'd dreamt of.


End file.
